Believe the hype - you have never seen a film like Nick Palumbo’s “Murder-Set-Pieces” before. Furthermore, based on the mass of controversy that the film has generated, you may never see the likes of it again. I can’t remember the first time I head the name Nick Palumbo or was told that I must see “M-S-P”. But somewhere along the lines I heard it from enough people that I decided to track down a copy. That task was easier said than done. I was at a Con in South Florida when I spotted the latest issue of Ultra Violent Magazine at a dealer’s table. I scurried on over to take a look at the brutal cover image, that still of 12-year old Jade Risser being terrified with the blade of a straight razor, sealed the deal. I had to see what all the hype was about. It took a bit of finagling and a lot of e-mails before I could manage to get a hold of a copy of "M-S-P". Actually it was so difficult to locate a copy that when I did get the film, I got 3 copies of it. So when I finally sat down to take in what is being billed as a collection of the longest string of descriptive adjectives ever assembled, I was expecting an epic disappointment. What I got was much more remarkable that I had ever anticipated – a $2,000,000 snuff film.

Murder-Set-Pieces's plot is deceptively simple. A serial killer known only as “The Photographer” (Sven Garrett) spends his nights cruising the Vegas Strip in search of beautiful young girls to sate his maniacal appetite for sex and murder. Palumbo tosses in a few subplots, including the killer’s Nazi background and some surrealistic childhood peeps. In addition to his slash and rape side-steps, The Photographer is currently involved with an attractive, if somewhat imperceptive hairstylist, whose younger sister Jade (Risser) sees The Photographer as something much more menacing.

The film has taken a pretty sever beating from its detractors, and much like all intensely brutal films, the disparagers are fierce in their abhorrence. They argue racism, anti-Semitism, misogyny, sexual brutalization, the exploitation of a national tragedy (in reference to Palumbo’s including footage of the 9/11 attacks) and even hammer the film on the gavel of pedophilia. Inarguably the film is bleak. The attacks are some of the extreme mayhem ever committed to film. Garrett is unrelenting and the actress’s screams of helplessness transcend the screen barrier forcing the audience to question their own motives behind watching such a film. Palumbo’s killer will not comply with the shrieks of mercy, the only hope for an end to the unyielding pain is death, and death will be what sets us free. In Palumbo’s world there is no justice for the innocent and no happy ending to come home to. In The Photographer’s home, home is hell and hell has come to pass.

Director Nick Palumbo’s masterpiece may be the most vital and important film since “Last House on the Left” and “Maniac” shocked the post-1960’s generation out of their suburban slumber some thirty years ago. So, say what you will about “M-S-P”, the fact still remains that the director’s unfettered vision is on the screen in all of its 35mm glory. So many popular directors talk a big game, pimping their big budget teen scream films and slasher epics to every kid on every block. Most of them will probably tell you that they’re pushing the envelope but the truth is they might as well be pushing a broom.

Hollywood’s cinema is overwrought with illusions designed to trivialize sex and violence and serve the castrated platters of celluloid stock to the multiplex masses. “M-S-P” slashes the jugular of the unnecessary filler found in polished studio fare and assaults the screen with 90 minutes of nothing but sex and violence. The film may look slick, and the lighting may seem perfect, but underneath the glossy style, “M-S-P” is a raging manifesto specifically and deliberately designed to repulse the viewer. You are meant to be offended. So if you are, then respect to the cast and crew, they did their jobs and they did them damn well. If you walk away from the film with an intense detestation of everything you just saw, so much the better for you. If you walk away from the film thinking that Nick Palumbo is pure evil, “M-S-P” has done its duty. Love it or hate it, you will never forget the first time you saw it, and that may not make a film good, but it does make a film great.

The key selling point on the special features must be the Deleted Scenes. For a film as graphically violent as “M-S-P” one would have to wonder what in the world was trimmed, considering the assault of blood and gore that made the film cut. Well the truth may leave the gorehounds a bit jaded, as the deleted footage is mainly additional shots of Garrett cruising the strip. Although, it might be of interest to see a few instances where he actually picks up some of the victims outside the casinos to some, I personally don’t feel any of the deleted footage served more than a passing insight into the film. Garrett does not need fleshing out. The audience needs to identify with him as a monster, so background information is unnecessary, and frankly it really doesn’t matter where Garrett gets his victims, just so long as he gets them. For a few shots of the off screen action, the viewer needs to access the still gallery, which must feature at least a hundred shots from principal photography. The poster art gallery is something of a joke, since the half-dozen or so art pieces could well have been incorporated into the stills sections. The disc also features audio commentary from Palumbo and Garrett as well as a Gallery of Outrage, which features a collection of quotes from various champions and critics of the film, including Severed Cinema’s own Chris Mayo.

For a film that destroys boundaries of what is acceptable on film, I really expected, and wanted to see some intensive behind the scenes footage, but alas the DVD is really missing that one crucial element – “A making of” documentary. In addition, the film’s carnage begs for a look at the ungodly special effects from Fred Vogel and the virtuoso Toe Tag Pictures (“August Underground”) crew. Overall the special features are fantastic, but to truly get a feel, for the film’s impact, the feature itself remains the singular definitive documentation of the inconceivable horror director Nick Palumbo has perpetrated on the world.